


Shibboleth

by EllieL



Category: Fringe
Genre: Episode: s03e08 Entrada, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could not move, but his mind was racing.<br/>Spoilers: 3x08, "Entrada"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shibboleth

He couldn't clench his fists or grind his teeth.  It was impossible to clear the mantle of its clock and photos and ephemera in one fell swoop.  Garments could not be rent, nor could cries tear from his throat.  Furniture could not be overturned.  Lamps could not be broken.  He couldn't to hunt her down and choke the truth out of her with his bare hands.  
  
He could not move, but his mind was racing fast enough to win the Kentucky Derby.    
  
If he were honest with himself, the suspicion, perhaps even the knowledge, had been there.  He'd seen the quick, easy smiles that didn't reach her eyes.  He'd admired that new little swagger in her walk.  He'd dismissed her failed recollections.  He'd appreciated the slightly sexier way of dressing.    
  
But he had chosen to ignore it, to let himself fall victim to the oldest con in the world.  It hadn't even been difficult.  He'd wanted to be seduced, had wanted her to seduce him enough to let down his guard and let himself believe the lie.    
  
Να είναι καλύτερος άνθρωπος από τον πατέρα του.  
  
A mother's wish, in the language of long-dead gods, whispered across universes.  It was the oldest, simplest test of friend or foe, and it hadn't crossed his mind.  Everything else in this world, and many things not of it, had but not a simple shibboleth.  Something with profound meaning, not just in words but in their history.  
  
She had failed that test, yes, but he'd failed a much larger one.  
  
Despite all his efforts, all his running, he had not become a better man than his father.  He was the same man as his father, who had let himself be deluded and seduced.  Just as his father had, he'd ignored the myriad differences between this world and the other, substituted one for the other.  He had loved her for that platonic ideal of Olivia in his mind, not the woman in front of him, and told himself that it was what he wanted.    
  
He had been happy in his delusion, just has his father had been.  
  
And he knew with certainty that his failure meant that even if--when they found Olivia, the real Olivia, his Olivia, she would not be his once he told her.  She would hate him for it almost as much as he hated himself.    
  
In all the thoughts barreling through his mind, the idea of not telling her was not among them.  He failed this test, he would not fail that one.  
  
****


End file.
